


You Shook Me All Night Long

by fangirlingtodeath513



Series: Rock Hard Strip Club ‘Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Stripper Dean Winchester, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-14 21:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18060488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlingtodeath513/pseuds/fangirlingtodeath513
Summary: Cas gets dragged to a strip club for his best friend Meg's birthday. He's embarrassed and uncomfortable, resolving to keep his eyes anywhere but the men on stage. At least, he'd meant to, before he'd laid eyes on Dean.





	You Shook Me All Night Long

**Author's Note:**

> The playlist for this fic can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/fangirlingtodeath513/playlist/4U7tMuFHXr1Mbc8UdfNsgm?si=qfBuPns6TsCeE8xjHBKA8w), if you want to listen to it while reading!

 

 

“I can’t believe you convinced me to join you,” Cas mutters, shoulders slumped and eyes firmly locked on the dirty black floor beneath his feet.

 

Meg just grins at him. “It’s my birthday. Why not take the opportunity to let some pretty men grind on you all night?”

 

Cas frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because it’s embarrassing, frankly. I can’t believe I let you convince me, what was I _thinking_?”

 

“I think you were so enthralled by the pictures Meg sent you that you had no choice but to agree,” Anna, Meg’s best friend and Castiel’s cousin, chimes in with a grin on her face. “Besides, why are you so embarrassed? Look how many people are here for this.”

 

“I’m the only guy here,” Cas hisses quietly, gesturing around the room. It’s not entirely true—the part of the club dedicated to the more general stripping is off to the left, and there’s a mix of both men and women over there, on the stage and off. But where they’re heading, it’s just him.

 

It’s a small room, a dingy club in the heart of the city, but it’s filled to the brim, nearly a hundred people crammed into the folding chairs around the room. At the front, there’s a stage that has an obnoxiously large banner hanging that features an image of all the men in the show, naked from the waist up. Sure enough, he is the only guy in the room, save for one nearby with the show’s logo emblazoned on his t-shirt, who clearly isn’t attending the show for fun. The club is wall-to-wall women, a majority of them scantily clad, a few even wearing tiny veil headbands who must be celebrating their bachelorette party.

 

“Oh, relax, it’ll be fine. Let’s just find our seats, it’s gonna start soon,” Meg replies, leading the way down the main aisle. Their seats are only four rows back, which is even more embarrassing. He’s in clear view of everyone, including the men who’ll be on stage. Frowning, he tries to make his way to the end of their row, but Meg stops him with a hand on his arm and a devilish smirk on her face. “Why don’t you sit next to me, Cas? It’s my birthday, after all.” She bats her eyelashes at him and Cas wants nothing more than to rip the stupid paper wristband off himself and storm from the club. That’ll only draw more attention to him, though, as will fighting Meg on the seating arrangement, so with a clenched jaw he settles into the seat next to Meg’s.

 

She’s now the only person separating him from the main aisle, where there will undoubtedly be half or mostly naked men in a short time.

 

Cas spends the next ten minutes quietly fuming in his seat. He _had_ agreed to this, though he hadn’t anticipated being this uncomfortable at the time. Far too soon—or maybe not soon enough, he can’t quite decide if he wants to delay the inevitable or just get it over with—the lights in the club dim so far that Cas can barely see six inches in front of him. He can hear the shuffle of boots a little ways away, which must be the men taking the stage. The stage lights flick on a moment later, revealing five men in black t-shirts, jeans, and work boots, their heads down just far enough that Cas can’t make out any of their faces.The tell-tale notes of Ginuwine’s _Pony_ start playing. It’s horribly cliché, but also just a little exciting.

 

The room lights don’t come back on. Instead, the stage lights grow brighter, lighting up the five men on stage. Their faces are still down, but Cas can see peeks of skin at the bottoms of their shirts, which is when he realizes they’re actually rocking their bodies to the beat of the music. A wave of excited chatter makes its way through the crowd, but Cas can’t seem to pull his eyes away from the stage. When Ginuwine’s crooning kicks in, four of the five look out at the crowd and Cas finally gets a look at all of their faces, except for the one in the middle.

 

Holy _shit_.

 

Every single one of them is cartoonishly hot and has Cas pressing his legs together as he watches. Meg smirks at him when she hears his sharp intake of breath, but he can’t be bothered to acknowledge her. The two on the ends—a tall, dark-skinned guy with impressively large arms and a burly guy with a beard who looks like his shirt is about to rip off, just based on how tight it is—are the only ones moving now, grinding their hips along with the music. It’s captivating, embarrassingly so, but he’s actually welcome to ogle these men as much as he wants. He’s definitely not going to miss that opportunity.

 

The first chorus hits, and the next two join in—both of them younger, one with jet-black hair and nearly pasty white skin, the other with a shaved head, gorgeous dark skin, and impressively toned arms—leaving the one in the middle the only motionless one.

 

The one in the middle produces a microphone from his pocket and finally looks out at the crowd, giving them the first glimpse of his face. Cas is pretty sure all the air has been sucked from the room. His eyes widen at he watches the man in the middle smirk out at the crowd and lift the microphone to his mouth, stepping in front of the other four men.

 

“Evenin’, ladies. How’re y’all doin tonight?” The shouts around him are deafening, but he can’t bring himself to join them. He still can’t remember how to breathe. “Good to hear, I’m glad. How about we get this show started?” The answering shouts this time are even louder, which only deepens the smirk on the man’s face. “Well I’m Dean, and I’ll be your emcee for the evening. These four gorgeous guys behind me are—” he  points behind him to the man on his far left, arm swinging down the line as he introduces them“—Benny, Max, Kevin, and Victor.” The crowd gives another cheer.

 

“Oh my _god_ , they’re so ridiculously hot,” Meg mutters, arm nudging Castiel’s. He doesn’t reply.

 

“Now, before we get into the swing o’ things, we’ve got a little business to take care of. This is a very interactive show; we’ll need volunteers, twelve of you, to come up on stage during our hot seats. Each of these guys up here gets three songs, and a new woman to tease with each song. If you think you’d be up to that—” Dean hops off the stage, standing at the start of the main aisle, mere feet from where Cas is sitting, “—then come on up here and get your name on the list.”

 

The room is so still for a moment that Cas thinks everyone in there may have died. In an instant, though, way more than twelve women spring to their feet, Meg included. Dean takes the names of the women celebrating something, including Meg and her birthday sash, before he fills in the rest of the list. Meg takes her seat with a huge grin on her face and Cas feels a dash of jealousy run through him, which he hadn’t expected.

 

Dean apologizes to the other women, hopping back onto the stage. “Alright, let’s get this shit started!” Dean steps to the back of the stage, glancing at the list of names. “Alright, before we call anyone up here, how about we let our first guy introduce himself to you all.” He gestures to the younger dark-skinned guy, who steps forward while the other three shuffle off the stage. “So the way this works is that Max here will get an entire song to himself up here to show you ladies what he’s capable of. After that, three of you will be called up here for lap dance. And if you like what you see, we’ll all be roaming around the club after the show for private dances.” With that, Dean sweeps an arm toward Max and steps off the stage, fiddling with his phone. The Weekend’s _Earned It_ starts up, so he must be the one controlling the music. Cas doesn’t really want to take his eyes off Dean, but he follows the other three men through a door near the stage, which must lead to the backstage area.

 

Barely suppressing a sigh, Cas turns his attention back to the stage, idly watching Max. There’s no denying the guy is gorgeous—just the right mix of thin and toned, and the way he moves is beyond sexy—but he doesn’t really do much for Castiel. Only a short time into the song, he slides his shirt off in a way that’s much sexier than it should be, at least in Castiel’s mind. He can practically feel the lust radiating off Meg, so he silently prays she gets one of the dances with him.

 

That song ends and transitions into _Sweet Dreams_ by Eurythmics, which is oddly fitting. Max calls up a woman a few rows behind them and he can make out the barest hint of a pout on Meg’s face. Max is quite talented, he’s got the woman on stage trembling in half a minute. Her hands are all over him, though after a moment he steps back and shimmies out of his jeans, leaving him in nothing but a deep purple pair of boxer briefs that hug his body just right.

 

He doesn’t know the next song that plays, but he hears Meg’s named get called over it. She squeals, though not loud enough for anyone but those nearby to hear, and springs to her feet, grinning up at Max when he helps her up onto the stage. It’s uncomfortable watching his best friend get a rather… intimate lap dance, so Cas decides to look around. He’s never actually been to a strip club, much less a coed strip club. It’s not much different than he’d imagined, if he’s being honest. It’s dark, with tones of red around the place. There’s stripper poles on the other side of the club, along with more comfortable seating, like plush chairs and booths spread out in front of the poles. There’s also a half-wall that shows a hallway with five doors, which he knows are the private dance rooms. He’s half inclined to see if he can stick around and get one with Dean, though the thought has his cheeks flaring bright red.

 

Meg gets back to her seat breathless and grinning as wide as Cas has ever seen her grin, so much so that he imagines her face must be aching.

 

“God, Cas, he’s even hotter up close. And _man_ is he packing, if you catch my drift.” She gives him an exaggerated wink, which he rolls his eyes at. He _does_ know what she’s talking about, and he’d really prefer not to think about it.

 

He doesn’t know the current song playing, nor is he very interested in watching Max grind against the woman on stage, so he continues exploring the club from where he’s seated. He can see Dean and one of the other guys—Kevin, he thinks his name was—making their way through the crowd on the other side of the room, chatting with a few people and Dean peeks his head into a few of the dance rooms. They must be empty, because he leaves the doors open when he walks away.

 

Meg smacks him on the arm, shaking her head. “Dude, c’mon, there’s a perfectly hot guy right in front of you on stage, and you’re seeking out the emcee? Why not focus on the people actually trying to earn your money?”

 

Cas frowns at her, rubbing the spot she’d hit him. “He’s not my type. Besides, this whole thing is… uncomfortable. Why would I want to watch him grind against some woman I don’t know?”

 

Meg hums. “Why don’t you get a dance from Dean after the show, then? I’ve heard they get entirely naked in the private rooms, sometimes,” she says with a wink, her attention returning to the stage.

 

Max finishes his last dance and heads off stage, only to be quickly replaced by the burly man with the beard, Benny. He’s clad in tight jeans and a leather jacket that accentuates every ripple of his muscles as he moves. Again, he’s not really Castiel’s type, but he can appreciate his aesthetically pleasing nature. His solo song is a rock song, sung by a woman with an incredible growl to her voice. He loses the jacket, revealing an impressively toned chest underneath, as well as the huge arms they’d gotten a glimpse of earlier.

 

His three lap dance songs are good songs, though the things on stage don’t exactly hold Castiel’s attention. The first song is a slower one, one that has Cas swaying along as he listens. The next is one Cas had on his playlist back in college, something he’ll never admit to. Justin Timberlake _does_ have an incredible voice, though. The final one, _Uptown Funk_ , has Cas laughing silently in his seat. It’s a good song, but not one he’d pictured anyone stripping to. That being said, Benny gives it his all, and both the woman on stage and the others in the audience seem enthralled.

 

The room goes entirely dark after that. He can hear Benny making his way off the stage, and another set of footsteps taking the stage. One of the spotlights clicks on, lighting up Dean in the center of the stage with a microphone in his hand. “Alright, quick intermission so we can get changed, and then we’ll be back. If you need to use the bathroom or get another drink, now would be the time to do that.”

 

Dean’s eyes search the room and Cas swears they linger on him for more than a few seconds. Unfortunately, his attention is pulled away by two women who approach the stage. Cas can’t make out what they’re saying, but Dean looks surprised and shakes his head slowly. The women must say something back because Dean’s cheeks are tinged with pink, which only makes him that much more beautiful. Dean smiles at them and waves them off. His mouth moves, but Cas is nowhere near close enough to figure out what he’s saying.

 

“Cas, you’re gonna stare a hole straight through the guy.” Meg snickers. “Well, maybe not _straight_ through.”

 

Cas rolls his eyes, glancing at Meg. “I let you ogle your stripper, let me have mine.”

 

Meg snorts, biting her bottom lip and nodding. Cas turns his attention back to the stage, but Dean is gone. The house lights flicker on, lighting up the crowd, and then he can feel the eyes back on him. He tries to relax in his seat; he shouldn’t be ashamed to be here. It’s a coed strip club, and they’re not exactly in an unwelcoming part of the country. Still, the attention directed toward him makes him uneasy.

 

The unnerving feeling doesn’t last long, however. The lights switch off less than five minutes after Dean had disappeared, leaving the entire half of the room pitch black. A few spotlights click on and a quiet piano starts playing, one Cas doesn’t recognize until—oh.

 

The five of them are in long black trench coats, dress pants, matching black fedoras with a single red feather, and a deep red tie tucked underneath the trench coat. It looks like they have some sort of shirt on underneath, but Cas can’t make out what it is. And, of course, each and every one of them is holding a plain black umbrella. When the Weather Girl’s lyrics kick in, they all lift the umbrellas to a rather… suggestive position. Naturally, his eyes zero in on Dean, who wraps his hand around the umbrella and strokes it, winking suggestively at a woman in the front row. Flushing, Cas tries to tear his eyes away, but he can’t seem to convince himself to look away from Dean.

 

Realistically, this _is_ Dean’s job, and technically Cas _had_ paid to see this… Cas bites his lip, shifting in his seat and letting himself relax. No harm in enjoying himself, right?

 

Just as the song reaches the _it’s raining men_ part, the umbrellas open and obscure their vision of the men, carefully held in front of them like they trying to hide themselves. When they finally put the umbrellas down, the trench coats are gone, leaving behind a clear view of what they had on underneath. It’s not much. The shirt Cas had glimpsed before turns out to be a plain black vest that would normally be over a dress shirt, but underneath theirs is just miles of glorious skin. Taking a shaky breath, Cas traps his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes ravishing Dean’s body.

 

Cas is pretty sure they’ve got an entire routine worked out for this song, but he’ll be damned if he removes his gaze from Dean to figure it out. The second chorus hits and then Dean’s trailing his hands down his front, rolling his body into them like he was made to. His hands make their way back up, and then the vest is being unbuttoned and tossed aside, leaving him in nothing but the deep red tie and his dress pants, which is _way_ hotter than it should be, frankly.

 

Breath caught in his throat, he unconsciously leans forward to watch, only to sit back when the five of them jump off the stage and weave their way through the crowd. Dean situates himself onto some woman’s lap in the row ahead of Cas, and he swears something like jealousy pings its way through his body, which is absolutely ridiculous. This is Dean’s job and, on top of that, he doesn’t own the man. He’s never even met him.

 

Dean looks up and Cas swears their eyes meet, but then Dean’s moving off the woman’s lap and the sheer embarrassment of meeting the man’s eyes has Cas directing his gaze to the floor.

 

“‘Scuse me, darlin’,” Meg snorts and Cas feels her shift beside him. Then there’s a finger under his chin, lifting his head up to the gorgeous face in front of him. The first thing he notices is the brilliant green of his eyes. And then the fact that he’s not wearing a shirt. And, of course, the fact that Cas could lean just a few inches forward and have his face buried in the man’s crotch. Before he gets a chance to say anything, Dean’s straddling his lap and wrapping his arms around Cas’s neck, mouth practically against his ear. “Noticed you staring. Like what you see?”

 

Cas’s throat bobs as he swallows, shivering when Dean’s lips trace the shell of his ear. “I-I do. You’re… breathtaking.”

 

In lieu of an answer, Dean grinds down against his thighs and plants a warm kiss to the side of his neck that makes Cas shiver beneath him. He earns a pleased hum from Dean at that, and it takes every ounce of self-control Cas possesses to keep himself from grabbing onto the man’s hip and grinding up against him. Just having him this close is far more intoxicating than it should be, Cas thinks, but he isn’t about to push the man away.

 

All too soon, the song ends and the men withdraw themselves from the crowd. Dean’s slower to move, but he does eventually slide from Cas’s lap with a wink and follow the other four out of the crowd.

 

Dean takes the stage, grabbing a microphone. “You enjoying yourselves out there?” He gets a loud cheer in response, which makes him grin. “Kevin’s just changing and then he’s up next, so the other six of you who put your names in, be ready.”

 

Kevin and Victor make their way through what Cas assumes is the backstage door, while Dean, Benny, and Max make their way over to the club side of the strip club. Benny and Max accept money from various people, Max even leading one back to a private room, but Dean seems to be surveying the area, like he’s looking for something. Whatever it is, it doesn’t look like he finds it, since a minute later he’s disappearing backstage.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Cas sees Kevin taking the stage, but he can’t be bothered to watch. He’s comfortable admitting the man is aesthetically pleasing, but once again, he doesn’t really do much for Cas, not when he’s already seen Dean.

 

Then it’s Victor’s turn, and things take a rather dark turn. He’s entirely in leather, from the tight pants he has on to the harness criss-crossing over his chest and back. He’s also got a long whip in his hand, and in time with the beat of the song, he cracks it. Honestly, Cas thinks he might go deaf from the screams around him. Everyone around him clambers to get closer, including Meg. Apparently S&M is a popular thing with this crowd.

 

Victor’s performance is far more interesting that his predecessors’ performances and actually manages to keep Castiel’s attention, even if that attention is more curious than enthralled.

 

By the time the other four men return to the stage, Dean’s the only one not down to his underwear, which is more than a little disappointing. He reaches for the microphone, but Benny grabs it first with a grin that can only be described as predatory.

 

“So, turns out y’all really wanna see Dean up here. Now, I know for a fact he’s already got a routine, so if you’re loud enough, maybe you can convince him to join the fun.”

 

Dean’s blushing and shaking his head, but the crowd erupts into cheers and shouts and a few lewd comments that can be heard above everything else, which only serves to darken the blush coloring his cheeks. With a glare in Benny’s direction, Dean shoos them off stage, much to the crowd’s delight.

 

Benny laughs and brings the microphone back to his mouth. “Since we didn’t have anyone prepared to come up, y’all are gonna have to line up. Dean’ll work through as many as he wants, I’m sure.” That earns him another glare, but Benny just laughs it off as he heads backstage and the first song starts.

 

Cas immediately perks up in his seat, because this is _much_ closer to his own music taste. The spotlight focuses on Dean, and Cas loses all coherent thought. He moves and rolls his body with AC/DC’s music, and Cas can just barely see Dean mouthing the lyrics to himself as he dances. The sight is far more intoxicating than any alcohol has ever been, and he finds himself leaning forward and pressing his legs together in an attempt to stave off his impending arousal.

 

When the first chorus hits, Dean drags his shirt up at a frustratingly slow pace, revealing more skin inch by inch. He only pulls it off entirely when the chorus ends and it gets tossed carelessly aside as he slides a hand down his front and rocks to the beat. Cas’s eyes are inevitably drawn down to his jeans, licking his lips at the thought of what might be hiding behind the denim. He won’t get to see anything, but he’ll get a general idea, which’ll work just as well, as far as he’s concerned.

 

The second chorus hits and then Dean’s popping the button of his jeans and teasing the zipper down, turning his back to the crowd and slowly pushing the denim down over the swell of his ass, revealing an incredibly tight pair of briefs that hug his ass perfectly. Cas idly wonders if he’s died and this is Heaven, because there’s absolutely no way Dean is real.

 

He’s not even sure what happens for the rest of the song, frankly. He’s so fixated on Dean, how his body moves and the thin layer of sweat clinging to his skin that Cas would love to taste that he’s slightly shocked when Dean stops moving. Blinking and glancing around, Cas realizes the song is over and Meg is staring at him with raised eyebrows, and Anna’s not smirking at him.

 

Blushing darkly, Cas shuffles in his seat and clears his throat. “What?”

 

Meg shakes her head. “You really are gone on him, aren’t you? I’ve never seen you like this, with anyone.”

 

Cas scoffs, but there’s not way to brush off the accusation. He _is_ gone on Dean, and he hasn’t exactly been subtle about it. “He’s… beautiful,” Cas answers with a shrug. He can see Anna grinning at him out of the corner of his eye, but he’s determined not to look at her. He returns his gaze to the stage, where Dean’s now grinding on a woman close to Castiel’s age, and a spike of jealousy flows through him, which is patently ridiculous. He doesn’t own Dean, and this is Dean’s job. Just because he’d been grinding on Castiel earlier doesn’t mean he’s actually interested.

 

In the midst of his internat crisis, Dean moves on to the next woman. He calls one more up after that, and then he announces that he’s done, to the dismay of the incredibly long line of women waiting for a lap dance. He excuses himself with a charming smile, grabbing his shirt and jeans as he heads backstage.

 

“You should’ve tried to get a lap dance,” Anna says, smirking and nudging his side with her elbow. “He seemed pretty into you before.”

 

Cas waves her off, eyes on the floor. Dean hadn’t said the show was over, so he’s sure there’s still one more group dance, at least. Sure enough, the music picks up as the five of them make their way back onstage, this time in jeans, cowboy boots, tight black t-shirts, and cowboy hats. And, of course, the final song of the night is the cliché and hilarious _Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy_ . It’s fitting, at least. Not to mention all of them look _very_ good in cowboy hats. He focuses on Dean, for the most part, though his eyes do drift to Victor and Benny when they shuffle into his view.

 

They hop off the stage after the first chorus and Cas could swear Dean looks right at him, but then he makes his way to the other side of the group. Cas can’t hide his disappointment but Meg and Anna are enjoying themselves, so he plasters a smile on their face for their sakes. It _is_ Meg’s birthday, after all, and he wants her to enjoy herself.

 

Eventually the songs ends and the five men make their way back on stage, more than a few dollar bills poking out the waistbands of their jeans. Dean takes the microphone that Max passes him and grins out at the crowd. “Unfortunately, that’s it for us tonight. If you want a dance from one of us, we’ll be making our way over to the club part. You’ll have to pay for said dance, but I promise we’ll make it worth your while,” Dean says with a wink. “Thank y’all for coming, I hope you enjoyed yourselves, and I hope we see you again!”

 

The crowd gives a loud cheer and Dean waves as he clicks the microphone off and heads off the stage, followed by the Max, Benny, Victor, and Kevin. The crowd thins out pretty quickly after that. A few of the women head over to the club side, but for the most part, they leave. Meg and Anna head toward the door, and they’re his ride, but—

 

“Hey, guys, I’ll catch up with you later, alright? I think I’m gonna stay here for a little while.”

 

Anna raises an eyebrow but Meg just smirks and nods, waving over her shoulder at him as she drags Anna out of the club. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he spins on his heel and heads back toward the club section, eyes already searching for Dean. He doesn’t find him, so he sits in one of the plush seats and looks around the club curiously.

 

“I was hoping you’d stay,” a soft, deep voice purrs in his ear, and he sivers as a finger trails down his neck.

 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas murmurs, tilting his head back to meet brilliant, bright green eyes. Dean grins at him and swings around the chair, holding out a hand.

 

“Private room?”

 

Cas nods, taking Dean’s hand and standing. “I’m Cas, by the way.”

 

Dean hums, slotting his fingers between Cas’s as he leads the way toward the private rooms. “What brought you to the show tonight?”

 

Cas chuckles softly. “My friend’s birthday is today, and I let her convince me to come along. I was regretting it, but then…” he trails off with a blush, shrugging. Dean grins at him and drags him into one of the private rooms, closing the door and locking it behind himself.

 

“Well, happy birthday to your friend, I appreciate her convincing you to come.” Dean smirks, eyes raking over Cas’s body as he licks his lips. “I’ll see if I can’t do the same.”

 

Cas swallows, shivering at the look in Dean’s eyes. It’s nothing short of predatory, and the rational part of Cas’s brain tells him he should probably get out of this room and away from this man before anything happens, but there’s no way in hell he’s leaving, especially if Dean plans to make good on that promise. “I, uh…”

 

Dean wanders over to a stereo tucked away in the corner, glancing at Cas over his shoulder. “Got a particular song you want?”

 

Cas wracks his brain, but he’s suddenly forgotten every single song in existence. So, instead of struggling, he falls back on a favorite. “Somebody to Love.”

 

Dean raises his eyebrows and Cas thinks he might say no, but then he’s grinning and turning back to the stereo. “Queen? Excellent choice.”

 

The soft opening to the song crackles through the speakers, and then Dean’s facing him again, the predatory look back in his eyes. Cas glances around, plopping himself onto the plush red bench that runs the length of the wall opposite the door. Dean steps toward him, the look in his eye softening as he gets closer.

  
For the first part, he mostly keeps to himself, swaying along with the music and shedding his t-shirt and jeans. Then he’s climbing into Cas’s lap and brushing his mouth against Cas’s jaw and it takes everything Cas has to keep himself from rutting up against the man. He’s already half hard, just from watching him, and he’s not entirely sure how welcome that would be. Thank god he’s wearing tight jeans that manage to conceal his arousal, for the most part.

 

That all flies out the window a moment later when Dean grinds against him to the beat of the music. There’s no way he doesn’t know Cas is aroused, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. If anything, he doubles his efforts, tangling a hand in Cas’s hair and trailing a line of warm, wet kisses down his neck.

 

“This okay?” Dean murmurs, his free hand trailing down Castiel’s side. Cas nods jerkily, concerned that if he does anything more, it will remove Dean’s attention from his neck. It doesn’t, thankfully, and Dean seems to take that as permission to shuffle closer, so he’s all but flush against Cas’s chest.

 

After a minute, Cas gives up any of the restraint he had left and grabs onto Dean’s hips with a soft moan. Dean startles at that, leaning back and raising an eyebrow at Cas. Instead of answering, Cas just blushes and removes his hands, though Dean is quick to grab them and put them back on his hips. “You moaned,” he mumbles, head tilted to the side like he can’t quite understand why. Has he not seen himself?

 

“I’m sorry, I’ve… I’ve never done this before, I’m not quite sure where the line is.”

 

Dean grins at that, leaning back until he’s basically sitting on Cas’s thighs. “Where do you _want_ the line to be? Cause as far as I’m concerned, there is no line on my end.”

 

Cas starts at that, looking up at Dean in confusion. “But… I always thought customers weren’t supposed to touch the… workers,” Cas finishes with a hint of a blush on his cheeks. Dean just laughs.

 

“Man, believe me, I ain’t complainin’. You’re ridiculously hot, and I’m down to go as far as you wanna.”

 

Cas peeks up at him, clearing his throat. “Really?”

 

Instead of answering, Dean grabs his hand and settles it over the quite obvious bulge in the front of his briefs, now that Cas is paying attention. Except, that does nothing but short-circuit Cas’s brain, because _his hand is on Dean’s cock_. He doesn’t quite know how to respond, so he flicks his thumb over where he thinks the head would be, relishing in the quiet hiss he gets in return.

 

“You’re okay with… can we?” Cas asks, glancing up at Dean with a mix of wonder and lust.

 

Dean just groans softly and rocks into Cas’s hand ever so slightly. “Just waitin’ on you to say the word, Cas.”

 

Freddie Mercury croons in the background and instead of interrupting, Cas just shoves Dean’s boxers halfway down his thighs and stares at the cock he’s been aching to get his hands on all night. Cocks in general aren’t particularly beautiful, but this one’s attached to _Dean_ , so Cas sits up and wraps his hand around it, thumb swiping through a bead of precum on the head. Dean shivers at the touch, wrapping his arms around Cas’s neck and pressing their foreheads together.

 

“Fuck,” Dean murmurs, letting out a harsh breath. Cas hums, giving him one slow stroke before he flicks his eyes up to meet Dean’s.

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

Dean groans and doesn’t bother answering, just surges forward and captures Cas in a kiss that’s nothing but pure lust. Cas gives as good as he gets, though he’s so distracted by Dean and his talented mouth that he doesn’t notice until after the fact that Dean’s hands have wandered down and popped the button on his jeans. He has a bit of trouble with the zipper, tugging at it frustratedly before he breaks their kiss so he can shuffle back and pull it down properly. Idly, he notices the song starting over. Dean must’ve put it on repeat.

 

Dean’s tugging at his jeans, then, trying to wiggle them down enough to get a hand on his cock. Cas lifts his hips a fraction, careful not to jostle Dean too much, but that solves the problem and Dean drags his jeans and boxers down his thighs, letting out a sharp breath when he finally lays eyes on Castiel. He expects the man to say something witty, or maybe even dirty, but he gets nothing. Dean looks… mesmerized. He wonders if that’s what he’s looked like all night, watching Dean.

 

Dean’s hand closes around his cock then, and every particle of air in Cas’s lungs disappears. Dean frowns, and for a minute Cas thinks it was his doing, but then he’s pulling his hand away and licking a stripe up it before returning it to Cas’s cock. Cas starts to do the same but before he can, Dean grabs his hand and licks a slow, wet stripe up his palm, eyes fixed on Cas’s the entire time. It’s beautifully hot and it sends a bolt of arousal down Cas’s spine. Dean smirks at him and then he’s shuffling closer and kissing Cas again, stroking his cock in time with the beat of _Somebody to Love_. After a second, Cas gets with the program and wraps his hand around Dean again, greedily swallowing the man’s moans as he reciprocates.

 

They climb higher and higher together, and their kissing gets sloppier the closer they get until they’re just pressing their foreheads together and breathing in each other’s space. It’s not much more than harsh pants, but it’s intoxicating to watch Dean like this, to know that _he’s_ the one taking Dean apart.

 

Cas can feel himself getting close, so he leans forward and captures Dean in a desperate kiss, grabbing onto the man’s bicep with his free hand. He flies higher and higher, and it’s almost like the music’s helping him along. They hit the part where Freddie’s voice drops off and the backing vocals come in.

 

_Find me somebody to love_

_Find me somebody to love_

_Find me somebody to love_

_Can anybody find me…_

 

He comes when the song hits its crescendo, his choked-off moan swallowed up by Dean, who isn’t far behind him. He comes a moment later, free hand tangled in Cas’s hair and he thinks he can make out a soft moan of his name from Dean’s lips, but then Dean’s shuddering and nuzzling his way against Castiel’s neck and the music slips back into the background. They both take a minute to catch their breath and then Dean’s leaning away, much to Castiel’s dismay. He raises an eyebrow at Castiel, who suddenly realizes he’d whined when Dean had leaned away. How embarrassing.

 

Dean doesn’t seem to think so, if his grin is anything to go by. “I was just gonna go grab some tissues. That okay?”

 

Flushed, though if it’s from the orgasm or the embarrassment is anyone’s guess, Cas nods. Dean chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to Cas’s cheek before sliding off his lap and crossing the room to the stereo. He grabs a handful of tissues, cleaning himself and tossing them in the trash before returning with a handful to wipe Cas’s stomach clean.

 

“You do this often?” Cas asks softly, attempting for genuine curiosity rather than the jealousy trying to seep into his veins.

 

Dean shakes his head, fixing his briefs as he takes a seat on the sofa next to Cas. “Never. I’ve thought about it, sure, but no, this is the first time I’ve ever…” He trails off, motioning between them in lieu of an answer.

 

Cas grins at that, though he tries to hide it from Dean. It’s ultimately unsuccessful, despite his best efforts.

 

Dean snorts at him, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

 

Cas hums softly, shifting in his seat as he tugs his jeans and briefs back on. “Have you ever been on a date with anyone you met here?”

 

“God, no,” Dean answers with a laugh. “Most of the guys that come here are sorta gross, and most of the ladies are only here for a lap dance or bachelorette party anyway.”

 

“Would you… like to change that?” Cas asks shyly, peeking at Dean out of the corners of his eyes.

 

Dean raises an eyebrow at him. “Really? You wanna go on a date with _me_?”

 

Cas nods, brows pinched. “Why wouldn’t I? That was incredible, and while I’d certainly like to repeat it in the future, I’m not at all opposed to getting to know you with your clothes on.”

 

Dean glances down at himself, like he’s just now realizing he’s in nothing but his boxer briefs. “I mean, if you’re sure…”

 

Cas nods firmly, smiling. “I’m positive.”

 

Dean dresses and then they exchange numbers. Cas tries to pay for the dance but Dean waves him off, insisting that the dance was on the house. Cas frowns but tucks the money away, resolving to pay for their date.

 

He leaves the club with Dean’s number in his phone, tentative plans for a lunch date the following day, and a ridiculous grin on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Find **this fic** on [Tumblr](https://fangirlingtodeath513.tumblr.com/post/183374107774/fangirlingtodeath513-read-here-on-ao3-rating) and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/530575)  
>   
> Find **me** on [Tumblr](https://fangirlingtodeath513.tumblr.com/) and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/fangirlingtodeath513)  
>   
>  **Please don’t post my works anywhere without my permission.**


End file.
